Showing posts with label The Gresham Flyers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Gresham Flyers. Show all posts
Monday, 16 February 2009
Saturday, 24 January 2009
The Gresham Flyers - Buffalo Bar
This has got to be the largest sector of my Facebool friends gathered in one place since the ole Blueveins alldayer, and at least two of my top five favourite bands playing.
The mighty Flyer, a swift run through of their new material. Shaza's keyboard noodles still send my head two steps to the left.
If my girlfriend were here she'd get the lyrics. And then a selection of their regular numbers, day I'm going to find out the name of that one that starts like Another Girl Another Planet.
For more objective review, please see this one. For something more specific, they had more treble than usual and the crowd were more familiar with their material than usual, dancing and singing along.
I'm writing this on the bus home, its been a weird night, starting off with a little turmoil, but an interesting safety-net. Its so cold right now, but my head's stuck in the mid-decade, we were there then, aye.
Other photies here
Sunday, 10 August 2008
Saturday, 5 July 2008
Holiday Romance, Seawolf, Bamboojuice, Kristeenyoung, The Gresham Flyers - Water Rats
Shit, I forgot its one of these eight bands on the bill places. God knows who I've missed. The first band I caught, Holiday Romance, possibly sound just like Echobelly, but sadly the sound man had them mixed like a fog horn.
I only caught their last few songs, the singing girl was kinda cute in her fluorescent pink skirt. More of that sort of thing.
Next up... Bamboojuice, sounding refreshingly like Europe, strangely homoerotic too, the red hot call and response thing turned me on a wee bit
The main singing chap keeps twitching, I'm not an expert on tardive dyskinesia, but if thats what it is, I'm sorry.
Sometimes they sounded like Living on the Edge-era Aerosmith.
Kristeenyoung on next, a two piece, they looked rockabilly as did half the folk in their crowd. A little Kate Bush or Queen Adreena-ish, angry singing girl. Just drums and a keyboard. She wear a hat at a jaunty angle and a dress made of over-sized jigsaw pieces.
Moments of singing like Jennifer Rush or possibly The Yeah Yeah Yeahs innit
Ooh, MJ Hibbett is here, its always a good gig if he's in the crowd. I missed his monthly acoustic thing at The Lamb last week, but he's got a gig next week at The Cross Kings.
The sun was shining brightly earlier today, I was listening to the new Just Joans EP and I know their love is true. But right now, at this gig, I love the Gresham Flyers so much. I want to hold them tightly and smell their hair as I nuzzle their neck and clamp both my hands on their ass. We'd hold each other for just a moment, just so we can remember what could have been.
But you know, I was wandering home after this gig, but before I'd typed up all this, with their Higher Education in my ears and my eyes all welling up with its beauty, then they came as floods of tears when I listened to the lyrics of Shiftwork for the first time. Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.
They hit the stage, Waz is wearing two ties and there appears to be a new drummer in place. the place is pretty much packed to capacity and the crowd are going crazy. I know, cos I was there.
They play most of the new album, Sex With Strangers, in the shops around the 21st July, and a couple of songs I swear aren't on it.
Played live, Shiftwork really suits Waz's voice and reminds me of The Younger Younger 28s done properly. Also loving Sharon's yelps in Cricket Bat. The last minute addition of wrestling face masks made it all the more perfect.
Ooh, ooh, they played that one that starts like Another Girl, Another Planet. I love that one, no idea what its called.
Alas, no time for an encore, the next band need to set up. Twats at the bar, once you've been served, you can fuck off, especially if I'm waiting in the queue behind you.
The final act I see before I fuck off are possibly called Seawolf. They sound like The Owsley Sunshine done in the style of Oasis's Importance of Being Idle or maybe just Status Quo meets Bruce Springsteen.
And with that I step out of Water Rats and plug into my ipod.
Other reviews of this gig
MJ Hibbett
I only caught their last few songs, the singing girl was kinda cute in her fluorescent pink skirt. More of that sort of thing.
Next up... Bamboojuice, sounding refreshingly like Europe, strangely homoerotic too, the red hot call and response thing turned me on a wee bit
The main singing chap keeps twitching, I'm not an expert on tardive dyskinesia, but if thats what it is, I'm sorry.
Sometimes they sounded like Living on the Edge-era Aerosmith.
Kristeenyoung on next, a two piece, they looked rockabilly as did half the folk in their crowd. A little Kate Bush or Queen Adreena-ish, angry singing girl. Just drums and a keyboard. She wear a hat at a jaunty angle and a dress made of over-sized jigsaw pieces.
Moments of singing like Jennifer Rush or possibly The Yeah Yeah Yeahs innit
Ooh, MJ Hibbett is here, its always a good gig if he's in the crowd. I missed his monthly acoustic thing at The Lamb last week, but he's got a gig next week at The Cross Kings.
The sun was shining brightly earlier today, I was listening to the new Just Joans EP and I know their love is true. But right now, at this gig, I love the Gresham Flyers so much. I want to hold them tightly and smell their hair as I nuzzle their neck and clamp both my hands on their ass. We'd hold each other for just a moment, just so we can remember what could have been.
But you know, I was wandering home after this gig, but before I'd typed up all this, with their Higher Education in my ears and my eyes all welling up with its beauty, then they came as floods of tears when I listened to the lyrics of Shiftwork for the first time. Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.
They hit the stage, Waz is wearing two ties and there appears to be a new drummer in place. the place is pretty much packed to capacity and the crowd are going crazy. I know, cos I was there.
They play most of the new album, Sex With Strangers, in the shops around the 21st July, and a couple of songs I swear aren't on it.
Played live, Shiftwork really suits Waz's voice and reminds me of The Younger Younger 28s done properly. Also loving Sharon's yelps in Cricket Bat. The last minute addition of wrestling face masks made it all the more perfect.
Ooh, ooh, they played that one that starts like Another Girl, Another Planet. I love that one, no idea what its called.
Alas, no time for an encore, the next band need to set up. Twats at the bar, once you've been served, you can fuck off, especially if I'm waiting in the queue behind you.
The final act I see before I fuck off are possibly called Seawolf. They sound like The Owsley Sunshine done in the style of Oasis's Importance of Being Idle or maybe just Status Quo meets Bruce Springsteen.
And with that I step out of Water Rats and plug into my ipod.
Other reviews of this gig
MJ Hibbett
Tuesday, 27 May 2008
Possibly the return...
I'm bored.
I haven't been out in ages.
Its been weeks since I last saw any bands, Scaremongers, the mighty Flyer and Sparky's Magic Piano at the Grammaphone.
It was okay. I was halfway through scribbling a review when the BBC's Culture Show interviewed me.
I need to go out more.
If you want me to go to your gig and review it,
I haven't been out in ages.
Its been weeks since I last saw any bands, Scaremongers, the mighty Flyer and Sparky's Magic Piano at the Grammaphone.
It was okay. I was halfway through scribbling a review when the BBC's Culture Show interviewed me.
I need to go out more.
If you want me to go to your gig and review it,
- make sure its in London,
- put me on the guestlist (plus one in case I convince someone to come with me)
- email me at illandancient {at) googlemail.com
- be nice to me at the gig
Monday, 3 September 2007
Hong Kong in the 60's, Paul Hawkins and thee Awkward Silences, The Gresham Flyers – The Tavistock Hotel
Shopping at Lakeside off the telly with the family, and t was murder driving into town, I would have ditched the car and gotten the underground, but I'd never had gotten the car back. I'm in a bowling alley underneath a hotel, just south of Euston station. The corridor into the venue was a cinema and kits at the door were drawing comic strips.
There are some people here dressed as superheros, well, capes and tin-foil. There's a stage set up adjacent to the bowling lanes and the MC just announced that I'd missed MJ Hibbett.
So on stage next are two seated keyboardists and a standing girl playing a Casiotone VL1, Hong Kong in the 60's, I think I may have missed them playing The Grosvenor the other night.
Its relaxed twinkly, chilled out indiepop, girl singing sweetly. A superhero themed song that took them three attempts to start properly.
The noise from the bowling lanes is distracting. This would suit a more intimate, dedicated venue, or maybe the jarring effect is intentional.
There are lots of people here who look like Ally Cook, I wonder what band he's in now, its kind of sad the level of underachievement that Dot To Dot achieved.
They swap instruments frequently and there are talented lead guitar noodles, but this group are sickly cutesy, the novelty only covers so much of their amateurishness, they need to ham it up a bit more, polish themselves.
Rather neat art deco / americana stylings at this venue, but its a bit of a mish mash kind of half-finished, all insulated pipework visible on the low ceiling, fixtures and fittings from half a dozen looks and feels.On my way to the bar I actually passed a karaoke booth, in use.
I recognise no one here, not even an MJ Hibbett is visible, apart from the Ally Cook-alike, there's a chap who looks like Tom Snowball, but its clearly not him.
The Flyers are here, should I review them, ignore them, or high horse my sorry ass. Dunno. Whatever come out of my pen when they're on. Why do I do it? Why do I come to these shows? There must be a dozen others I could go to, or stay home and noodle guitar, rather than doggedly trooping out night after night. Sometimes the light shines in such a way I think I'm just a trolling real life form. How can I stop, without just falling silent? That way lies oblivion.
Paul Hawkins and thee Awkward Silences on next, a drummer wearing a Lone Ranger-style mask, violinist in sunglasses, and The Spectre on lead guitar, they crank it up in the garage rock genre for a few minutes before Captain Awkward, their singer, takes to the stage. Its nice, gritty, dirty rock, at times with lead guitar which is both blistering and soaring at the same time.
Rolling, hollered vocals stamped on top, doesn't sound like they're practised much, but even better for that.
Of course, in the film, Jack Black would playCaptain Awkward, stalking round the audience as he sings, preaching whisky drenched sermons.
Before the final act there was a Pop Art Superhero game show thing, won by a young lady, the artist behind Emo Dave, the name rings a bell, I wonder what league its in.
Last orders at the bar passes or possibly the barman dicking about with the lights. I occupy myself by colouring in one of the Emo Dave posters that have been left for colouring in, doing it in blue biro in the Naked Chicks on Post It Notes style. I left my work on the bar in the vague hope that it would be picked up by some kind of art gallery curator, who'd subsequently read this, click on the the nekkid chicks website, recognise my genius and offer me an exhibition.
The Flyers take to the stage. I realise that for most of this review I've been calling them in an abbreviated way rather than by their full name The Gresham Flyers, it could be a cheap gimmick to shoot myself in the foot in google searches. Back in Bolton '95 Jim Bean's band were called Flyer, me and Nosni wrote this song called Dire Flyer, “I woke up on Thursday morning it seemed that the end had come, I knew what was going to be happening that night and it didn't seem like fun”.
The Flyers take to the stage, polished and funky, the sound in here has improved since the earlier bands, although the vox levels could do with being tweaked up a little. Nice “bah bah bah” choruses.
Whilst the drums briefly stutter, Hong Kong in the 60s leave the venue. It gets a little prog on stage, maybe too knowing, I wish I could bounce views off someone.
Fuck it, I was trying so hard, but damn it, they're starting to disappear up their own arses. Damn it. Do something to pull it back!
Time passes and they remain on a steady course. This jury's still out on whether Sharon's yelps contribute positively. The stop-startiness reminds me of My Legendary girlfriend, but without the intellectual backbone that McGazz had. This is richer and more rolling.
Oh, Hong Kong's back... briefly.
Waz's singing fits some songs perfectly, but doesn't quite have the emotional range, Sharon should do more of that sort of thing, kind of like The Validators in reverse.
Parking ought to be a nightmare round here, but it seemed easy. I wonder if my car's been towed.
Photies
here
Reviews
here
There are some people here dressed as superheros, well, capes and tin-foil. There's a stage set up adjacent to the bowling lanes and the MC just announced that I'd missed MJ Hibbett.
So on stage next are two seated keyboardists and a standing girl playing a Casiotone VL1, Hong Kong in the 60's, I think I may have missed them playing The Grosvenor the other night.
Its relaxed twinkly, chilled out indiepop, girl singing sweetly. A superhero themed song that took them three attempts to start properly.
The noise from the bowling lanes is distracting. This would suit a more intimate, dedicated venue, or maybe the jarring effect is intentional.
There are lots of people here who look like Ally Cook, I wonder what band he's in now, its kind of sad the level of underachievement that Dot To Dot achieved.
They swap instruments frequently and there are talented lead guitar noodles, but this group are sickly cutesy, the novelty only covers so much of their amateurishness, they need to ham it up a bit more, polish themselves.
Rather neat art deco / americana stylings at this venue, but its a bit of a mish mash kind of half-finished, all insulated pipework visible on the low ceiling, fixtures and fittings from half a dozen looks and feels.On my way to the bar I actually passed a karaoke booth, in use.
I recognise no one here, not even an MJ Hibbett is visible, apart from the Ally Cook-alike, there's a chap who looks like Tom Snowball, but its clearly not him.
The Flyers are here, should I review them, ignore them, or high horse my sorry ass. Dunno. Whatever come out of my pen when they're on. Why do I do it? Why do I come to these shows? There must be a dozen others I could go to, or stay home and noodle guitar, rather than doggedly trooping out night after night. Sometimes the light shines in such a way I think I'm just a trolling real life form. How can I stop, without just falling silent? That way lies oblivion.
Paul Hawkins and thee Awkward Silences on next, a drummer wearing a Lone Ranger-style mask, violinist in sunglasses, and The Spectre on lead guitar, they crank it up in the garage rock genre for a few minutes before Captain Awkward, their singer, takes to the stage. Its nice, gritty, dirty rock, at times with lead guitar which is both blistering and soaring at the same time.
Rolling, hollered vocals stamped on top, doesn't sound like they're practised much, but even better for that.
Of course, in the film, Jack Black would playCaptain Awkward, stalking round the audience as he sings, preaching whisky drenched sermons.
Before the final act there was a Pop Art Superhero game show thing, won by a young lady, the artist behind Emo Dave, the name rings a bell, I wonder what league its in.
Last orders at the bar passes or possibly the barman dicking about with the lights. I occupy myself by colouring in one of the Emo Dave posters that have been left for colouring in, doing it in blue biro in the Naked Chicks on Post It Notes style. I left my work on the bar in the vague hope that it would be picked up by some kind of art gallery curator, who'd subsequently read this, click on the the nekkid chicks website, recognise my genius and offer me an exhibition.
The Flyers take to the stage. I realise that for most of this review I've been calling them in an abbreviated way rather than by their full name The Gresham Flyers, it could be a cheap gimmick to shoot myself in the foot in google searches. Back in Bolton '95 Jim Bean's band were called Flyer, me and Nosni wrote this song called Dire Flyer, “I woke up on Thursday morning it seemed that the end had come, I knew what was going to be happening that night and it didn't seem like fun”.
The Flyers take to the stage, polished and funky, the sound in here has improved since the earlier bands, although the vox levels could do with being tweaked up a little. Nice “bah bah bah” choruses.
Whilst the drums briefly stutter, Hong Kong in the 60s leave the venue. It gets a little prog on stage, maybe too knowing, I wish I could bounce views off someone.
Fuck it, I was trying so hard, but damn it, they're starting to disappear up their own arses. Damn it. Do something to pull it back!
Time passes and they remain on a steady course. This jury's still out on whether Sharon's yelps contribute positively. The stop-startiness reminds me of My Legendary girlfriend, but without the intellectual backbone that McGazz had. This is richer and more rolling.
Oh, Hong Kong's back... briefly.
Waz's singing fits some songs perfectly, but doesn't quite have the emotional range, Sharon should do more of that sort of thing, kind of like The Validators in reverse.
Parking ought to be a nightmare round here, but it seemed easy. I wonder if my car's been towed.
Photies
here
Reviews
here
Monday, 30 July 2007
The Gresham Flyers
I made a conscious effort not to see this band.
Sometimes I have these fantasies about indiepop genocide, how I could be the indiepop Stalin. By using the time honoured words I can kill off bands who have fucked me over, or some other suspected misdoings of the past.
By saying they're despicable people, vermin, representing the very worst of this scene, like cockroaches. Their nepotism and eliteism is a pox on all DIY, homemade bands. They need to be excluded from this sort of thing.
Maybe they'll just cease to exist, their work left as a fading scar, forgotten save for suntans and flourescent lighting. And I'd be the indiepop Stalin who made it so.
The feeling of injustice, betrayal, rejection and alienation from their ilk has made me the monster I am today. Every atrocity I've created, give me a minute and I can attribute it to them. Every self-inflicted injustice is due to them and their lott.
Their guitarist, Waz, was the first person to wander over and say hi when I arrived on site.
Photies
here
here
here
here
here
Reviews
here
Sometimes I have these fantasies about indiepop genocide, how I could be the indiepop Stalin. By using the time honoured words I can kill off bands who have fucked me over, or some other suspected misdoings of the past.
By saying they're despicable people, vermin, representing the very worst of this scene, like cockroaches. Their nepotism and eliteism is a pox on all DIY, homemade bands. They need to be excluded from this sort of thing.
Maybe they'll just cease to exist, their work left as a fading scar, forgotten save for suntans and flourescent lighting. And I'd be the indiepop Stalin who made it so.
The feeling of injustice, betrayal, rejection and alienation from their ilk has made me the monster I am today. Every atrocity I've created, give me a minute and I can attribute it to them. Every self-inflicted injustice is due to them and their lott.
Their guitarist, Waz, was the first person to wander over and say hi when I arrived on site.
Photies
here
here
here
here
here
Reviews
here
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